love is a ghost you can't control
by KillianJones
Summary: Emma has lived in her small apartment for as long as she can remember, when things start to get strange, she's convinced she's dealing with a ghost and calls professional medium Killian Jones to help her get rid of the ghostly presence. (Reviews contain spoilers.)
1. Chapter 1

"No. No. No! I opened those damn curtains!" Emma yelled, opening the closed curtains once again, allowing the street lanterns to shine their light in the living room. She knew she'd opened them because she liked to be welcomed by the rays of sunshine in the morning and thus barely ever closed the curtains. "I'm going mad," she whispered to herself, "going full on mad." She kicked the coffee table, and of course, the only thing breakable on the coffee table fell off the edge and shattered into many, many pieces. Too many for a frustrated person to clean it up. Emma sighed and decided to just go to bed and clean it up in the morning.

But kind of as expected, when she woke up in the morning, pouring herself some coffee, and then remembering the shattered mug, it was already gone. She put down her mug and stared at the spot where the shattered mug had laid yesterday; a faint coffee stain in the carpet to prove it had actually been there. Emma sighed and shook her head. It's been like this for a while, but it was becoming too much.

"Hey ghost!" She yelled, "You must be very kind to clean up my mess, but honestly it's messing a bit with my head, so you can stop it, thank you." But really what did she know, how do you address ghosts and should she say Mr. Ghost? But what if it was a female ghost?

She took the newspaper from the table - hey at least the ghost in her house was nice enough to bring in the newspaper - and started skimming through the pages, landing on the ads page. There in a small corner. _Killian Jones, spiritual medium.__Questions and house visits._ And his number. It was quite strange that she would stumble across the ad now and honestly she was quite sceptic about the whole ghost thing, but perhaps giving it a try wouldn't hurt. She took the phone - of what she was absolutely certain she placed elsewhere - and dialled the number.

"Killian Jones," a deep, warm male voice answered on the other side.

"Hello, my name is Emma -"

"Sorry love," he interrupted, "there is noise on the line, I can't quite hear you."

"Is this better?" Emma asked, moving towards the window.

"Much," Killian answered, she could hear him smile, "I didn't catch your name."

"Emma, I have a problem with a ghost, I believe."

"What are the indications?"

"Most recent example is last night, I always leave the curtains open, and this ghost closes them."

"Are you sure you aren't just absently?"

"I am growing a little mad," Emma admitted, twirling the phone line around her fingers, "But it is happening quite often, so I make absolutely sure I keep them open. But last night also, I... bumped -" she chose the word carefully, making sure the man across the line wouldn't think she was a complete lunatic. "- against the coffee table and dropped the mug, when I woke up the shards were gone."

"A coffee mug, you say?"

"Yes," Emma answered slowly.

"Interesting..."

"Why?" Emma laughed, "Is a coffee mug an absolute indication of a ghost?" Laughter on the other side.

"No," Killian snickered. "Would you like me to come take a look at your house?"

"Yes, perhaps just to ease my mind a little," as Emma spelled out her address it remained silent for a moment. "Mr. Jones, are you still there?"

"I am. You know what, I have a spot in the afternoon, is that all right for you?

"Yes, absolutely," Emma chirped, glad this would get solved quickly.

"All right, I'm gonna do some research on your apartment and your town first, and I'll be over in a few hours."

"Thank you," Emma said and hung up. The next few hours were strange, as if her ghost was starting to become restless. Perhaps the ghost knew she called someone to get rid of it. She walked around a little - often feeling warm, and then very cold again - before deciding to sit down, trying to keep herself calm. Her phone rang, but before she could reach it, the ringing stopped already. No called ID. Emma shrugged, person would have to call back.

* * *

An hour after that, someone knocked on her door. Nervously she brushed off invisible dust off her dress and opened the door. A man stood in the hallway, turned out, Killian was a typical tall, dark and handsome. Gorgeous eyes, really. Very blue. He was smiling widely, but his blue eyes looked straight past her, somewhere next to her.

"Do you see the ghost?" Emma whispered a bit scared that there really was a ghost, yet relieved she wasn't really becoming mental. Killian nodded slowly. "Oh thank god, I'm not going mad." He smiled a little and stepped inside as she invited him in.

"There is indeed a ghost in your house," Killian said, "but I'm afraid she doesn't know she's dead... She is talking to me like you're the ghost, and not her."

"Oh," Emma muttered, somewhat uncomfortable by the idea the ghost thinks Emma is the ghost. "That's unfortunate. Is it often that ghosts don't know they are dead?"

"I would love to tell you more about ghosts, but perhaps - to not unsettle her - would you mind not asking too many questions, and if you do, keep them a bit vague? Because your ghost is asking questions as well and this way I might answer them both at the time," Killian smiled at her and then looking around the room. Emma had absolutely no idea of how to handle ghosts, but Killian Jones apparently did.

"Yes of course," she smiled. "So would you like some coffee while you talk?"

"That would be lovely."

"Okay, just one more question," she asked while walking into her kitchen, "Is this a nice ghost?"

"From my experience when a ghost learns he or she is dead, they tend to get a little upset and sometimes even violent, but so far she's very kind. She's even offering me coffee as well."

"How does that work?" Emma frowned, her hands halfway to the coffee machine, hesitating. "Whose coffee will you drink? Mine or hers? Do I pretend to make coffee or?" Killian smirked.

"Do what you regularly do." Emma nodded and poured him a cup of coffee, placing it on the counter.

"You know," Killian started, sitting down in the couch, the cup in his hand. "I thought this case was quite interesting, because a few hours before you called, I received another call from this house, concerning ghosts. It was a different voice, but you both mentioned somewhat the same things, just from another perspective. I'd never had that before, which is why I asked to come by sooner than I usually do. I often wait a few days, because people tend to call back and say it was just their piping or so," Killian laughed, Emma smiled in return. It must be hard for him, not many people believe in ghosts, or want to believe in them. But from what she just heard, they weren't that bad. And her ghost was simply confused.

Emma made way to sit down in the single seat, but Killian held up is hand, "would you mind…" He gestured to the other couch.

"Oh is this where –" Emma whispered with a conspiring tone as if the ghost could suddenly hear her, he briefly nodded and Emma sat down in the other couch.

"So," Killian started again, "You mentioned a coffee mug, would you mind showing me where it fell?"

"Right next to the coffee table," Emma replied, staring at the single seat, perhaps a bit scared that she might suddenly see the ghost. Or that it would realise it's a ghost and try to kill both of them. Killian waited a moment before looking and nodding as he inspected the coffee stain.

"What other things has your ghost done?" Emma started naming all sorts of things, like moving stuff, turning the heat off, and opening the curtains. Sometimes, Killian would hide a small smile, and Emma realised that (should her ghost really have no clue she was a ghost, and thought Emma was the ghost) the ghost was actually saying opposite things. Because for her ghost, Emma was the one turning on the heat and opening the curtains.

"How long have you lived here?" Killian asked upon a silence – he'd taken a notebook and wrote down things she (and her ghost) said. She felt like she was at a shrink. Or maybe she and her ghost needed relationship therapy.

"Since I moved out from my parents' house."

"And when did you first notice something was up?"

"I don't remember," Emma frowned, "Although, I must admit, I wasn't very neat, so I didn't really pay attention to where I left my stuff. But you know, the curtains started making it obvious, because I never to rarely close them," Killian nodded and wrote down a few things. She wondered if he wrote down both the things she said and the things her ghost said. But she didn't want to seem nosy by looking over his shoulder or anything.

"I would very much love to talk with your ghost alone for a moment if that would be possible. A moment when you are not home."

"Oh yes, of course. I am home often though," Emma sighed, a social life wasn't exactly put away for her. She liked being on her own. Just her. And her ghost.

"You could maybe go shopping for a day or so?" Killian suggested.

Emma snorted, "I don't like shopping all that much, but sure."

Killian took an agenda from his bag, "How about a week from now? In the afternoon?"

"Sure," Emma replied, "So do I just leave the key under the doormat, or?"

"Yes, leaving the key under the doormat would be a good idea. After I've spoken with your ghost I will contact you again for a new appointment, perhaps somewhere I can speak with you alone?"

"Yes," Emma agreed, "always speaking vaguely, with a ghost who doesn't know she's a ghost, very strange."

Killian snorted and gave her a 'you tell me' kind of look, betraying he wasn't used to this either. "You don't mind if I don't shake your hand right, wouldn't want to freak the other one out."

* * *

Emma opened the door, seeing Killian, she could have hit herself in the head. "Was that today I am so sorry, I can't believe I forgot, it's barely been a week. With this whole ghost thing I tend to be so forgetful."

"That's all right," Killian answered, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He looked around pensively. "You know, I don't see her nor feel her presence..."

"I must admit it has been very calm today," Emma frowned. "Actually, she has been very calm since you were here."

"Ah well, now that I am here I might as well talk to you."

"May I ask you something?" Killian nodded. "I am curious, what does this ghost look like?"

He seemed to think about it for a moment. "She's beautiful," he then concluded.

"I was more wondering, does she look human or is she all bloodied and ghostlike?"

"There is definitely no blood," Killian laughed. "Sometimes she moves a bit strangely, but I think because she is so confident she's still alive, she's looks more human than ghostlike."

"How is it, that she doesn't know she's a ghost?" Emma frowned and poured herself a glass of coke. "Do you want one?"

"No thank you," Killian smiled, sitting down in the couch, his bag next to him, "I don't know why she's unaware she's a ghost, my best guess is that she died suddenly, like a crash or perhaps a murder."

"Please don't tell me she killed herself here? That would definitely be the cause of many nightmares," Emma sighed and sat down in the couch across him, pulling her legs onto the couch as well, her glass in her hand.

"No," Killian shook his head, studying her movements for a small moment - perhaps he thought it was inappropriate for her to sit like this, but honestly she felt much more comfortable knowing the ghost wasn't around. "I do vast research, there is nothing on the apartment. The research is kind of why I wanted to talk to her. You know, finding out her name so the research is a bit easier. No name is hard to go on, and you can't really find a person or a dead girl for that matter just by looks."

Emma snorted, "Yes that seems hard, but don't you have her name? She must have introduced herself on the phone when she called you?"

"Probably, although, I do remember the line was pretty bad that day," he pursed his lips.

"Yes, lots of noise and cracking," Emma recalled.

"Come to think of it, I don't think I ever caught your full name."

"Swan," Emma smiled.

"That's an interesting name, I've never met someone with that last name."

"Me neither, well except my own family. But here's to being the odd one," she shrugged.

"Or unique. Is it okay if I ask you a few questions to find out if this ghost is in any way related to you, if the ghost is attached to you, or the apartment, perhaps an object?"

"Sure, and are you certain you don't want anything to drink?"

"No thank you," Killian answered, taking his notebook from his bag and started writing, "so your name, Emma Swan..." He stated as he wrote it down. He hesitated and then, maybe a bit flirty: "In what year were you born?"

"Is that just a fancy way of asking how old I am?" He smiled guilty. "I'm 27. But, and excuse my forwardness, I don't think I could live with someone who can see ghosts." Killian nodded and he didn't seem offended, for that she was grateful.

"Honestly, that's why most of my dates ended up in nothing. Either they don't believe me, or they're scared to death of ghosts."

"That's a funny way of putting it," she laughed, tracing her finger along the top of her glass.

"In my profession, it would be a grave mistake to not use puns."

Emma grinned and raised her eyebrows, "And do they usually work?"

"I have one that gets mixed reviews: what is a ghost's favourite fruit?"

Emma closed her eyes briefly (as a way of readying herself for the most ridiculous answer) and then looked at him with a smug smirk, "I don't know, what is?"

"Booberries," he answered dryly. Emma snickered, it wasn't so much the joke, it was more his tone. The tone of someone absolutely done with his own jokes.

"And its favourite pie, booberry pie?" She suggested. Killian snorted and shook his head.

"Okay, in all seriousness now. These are just some standard questions to help me figure out with what kind of ghost we're dealing with. Do you have any relatives that died?"

"No."

"Purchased any antique objects lately?"

"No."

"Performed a séance?"

"No," Emma replied once more, this time with a little scoff. Who in their right mind would summon a damn ghost?

"Had a near-death experience?"

"No, or I don't think so? Do you know it when it happens?"

"You often wake up in a hospital," Killian answered, trying to keep his face emotionless, but it was obvious he found the question amusing.

"I haven't been to a hospital," Emma shrugged.

"So, no car crashes either?"

"No. Although my car has been acting up lately, so I just walk everywhere. The thing scares me."

"May I see it?"

"It's in the garage downstairs. But, I'm gonna be honest, I don't remember where I left the key. Or maybe the ghost moved it. Is it okay if I look for it and show you next time?"

They continued to talk until dark about ghostly things mainly; how he found out he had the gift and if he always considered a gift etc. Somewhere around five he received a text - someone with a ghost who wouldn't stop screaming at night. In that way, Emma was glad her ghost at least was silent. They said their goodbyes and she was left alone in her apartment.

The following days were strange, her ghost hadn't moved any stuff or closed the curtains since Killian had been in her apartment. One day she even shattered a mug on purpose to see if the ghosts was still there, but in the morning, the shards were still shattered across the living room. A sense of loneliness took her by surprise.

She'd grown so used to the ghost being around that she nearly missed it. (Or maybe she missed that she couldn't blame the ghost anymore when she forgot where she placed something.)

* * *

About three or four days after his last visit Emma received a phone call.

"Hey Emma," Killian greeted her on the phone, she would recognise his voice everywhere. It's warmth and kindness was amazingly comforting.

"Hi, did I forget another appointment?" She joked.

"No but I wanted to know if you had something to do right now, because I was at the local cemetery and I found your ghost's grave."

"Eh, creepy?" She hesitated.

"I also wanted to ask you a few more questions without the ghost around," he whispered, "So if possible, would you mind coming up here?"

"Okay," Emma shrugged, "Oh but I still didn't find the key for my garage door, so I will have to walk."

"I have time," Killian was smiling, "See you later."

She arrived at the cemetery, seeing Killian in the far back, waving at her once. She suddenly realised that he was indeed rather far away, and that's where the older graves were. How old was this ghost?

"Hey," she said as she was in hearing distance.

"Hey," he replied, gesturing for her to stop behind the stone. It was old and gray, a bit sad really. "Listen, Emma, I didn't really need to ask you something, but I did find the grave I wanted to show you." Emma nodded with a smile, "I'm sorry, I really didn't know any other way to tell you."

"What are you talking about? Is it a relative of mine?" He nodded at the headstone, for her to see it. Emma slowly walked towards him.

"No," she muttered, almost instantaneously tearing up. "NO!" She yelled, falling on her knees right before the headstone, shaking her head furiously. Through her tear-filled eyes she tried to look at the headstone once more, but even through the blurriness, she could easily read it. Emma Swan. She nearly choked while gasping for breath. It felt like a being hit in the chest with a hammer, the difficulty to breathe, the chest ache of the realisation. No matter how hard she screamed, her voice slowly becoming hoarse, it didn't seem to go away.

The screaming and crying slowly became soft sobs, her hands foul with dirt from tearing out the grass, and eventually just hitting the sand - she could see exactly where she had repeatedly pulled out grass, and hit the ground; like she could feel it all the way down there, in her coffin. But honestly all she felt now was emptiness.

"Emma?" Killian slowly broke through her bubble, she must have sat there screaming at her own headstone for what felt like hours, yet he was still here. She looked up.

"I remember," the hoarseness of her voice surprised her a little as she spoke, but she continued anyway, "you said something about not scaring the ghost, because they might get violent. The fuck is this?" She pointed at the headstone, "This isn't scary?"

"I'm sorry," Killian whispered. "You were so convinced you were still alive. Most ghosts I deal with have some notion of being dead - some simply don't care and pretend to be alive, but I didn't know how to deal with you." Emma caught herself as she rocked back and forth, like patients in a mental hospital did, trying to calm herself down. Tears still leaking from her eyes and she couldn't stop it. She looked at the headstone once more.

_Emma Swan. October 22, 1913 - July 19, 1940._

"What's today's date?"

"January 26th, 2015," Killian answered. Another grasp at her breath; she'd been dead for almost 75 years and she never realised a thing.

"I don't..." She took a deep breath, it seemed to ease her chest a little. "I don't remember how I died."

"Do you want me to tell you?" Killian offered, taking a file map from his bag, in a messy handwriting it said 'Emma Swan Case'.

"Was it bad?"

"Police report said you died immediately, I believe that's why you don't remember or maybe ever didn't realise you were dead; because of the suddenness of it all," Emma nodded as he spoke, him telling her she was dead still sounded so strange.

"So, how'd it happen?"

"Car crash," he answered, he took her silence as an invitation to continue. "I found this article on the internet."

Emma shrugged in defeat, a runny nose and tears eyes made her sound exhausted, "I don't know what that is."

"It can be compared to a very advanced library," Killian offered, but perhaps something in his voice betrayed that that was not all. Yet she accepted it, she was too tired. He started to read. "July 19th, 1940. A fatal car crash cost the life to a family of four. The son and daughter lost their lives immediately. Mother and father were brought to the hospital, but they died later due to their injuries." Emma felt like screaming again, she didn't know what was worse. Knowing her whole family died, or never once in those 75 years questioning why her parents never called, or why her brother never visited. Another gust of anxiety came over her, once more leaving her almost completely breathless.

"So, did we crash into a wall, or?" Emma tried to keep herself talking before she would go back to the shock and lock everything out.

"No, there was another driver, he hit you off the road. Initial police report says it was a hit and run, but later notes said he later had to turn himself in as he suffered multiple injuries as well and required medical attention. He was drunk at the time of the accident."

"Did he die?" She asked angrily.

"Of old age."

"Son of a bitch!" Emma yelled, smacking her hands once more in the dirt. It was so unfair, why did he get to live a long life?

"His gravestone is a few rows away, you can go kick it if you want," Killian suggested, trying to keep the air light. Emma couldn't help but smile.

Yet, she shook her head. "Now what?"

"We get you to cross over," Killian answered as if it was the most obvious answer. Perhaps it was.

"We?"

"I'm not gonna let you do this alone," he shrugged, placing the map back into his bag.

"Why, you scared I'm gonna stay and become a violent ghost?" Emma smirked.

"Because the process can get quite emotional, but if you don't want me here." Killian started walking towards his car.

"No, wait. Stay," she reached out for him, her fingers around his wrist. He felt warm and strange, as opposed to everything feeling cold all the time. Slowly she realised that the times she felt warm in her apartment, were the times the humans walked through her. And it was sad really. She slowly let go of him.

"So do I go to heaven?"

"Or hell," Killian grinned. She punched his shoulder and he pretended to hurt.

"Very funny," she glared at him.

"Truth is, I don't know, Emma. I'm a bit sceptic about the whole heaven and hell thing."

"Says the man who talks to the dead."

"That doesn't mean I believe in an afterlife," Killian shrugged, "I believe it there is something, but I don't know what."

"How come I can see you, and not the people around me, I mean sometimes I see other people, but why not the people that lived in my house?

"I like to see myself as a bridge between the two worlds, both the living and the dead can see me," he said, "Let's see. Can you see the man by that headstone over there?" He subtly pointed to a man more to the front of the cemetery.

"Yes?"

"There's another woman. The man has died and he's comforting his wife as she cries by his headstone."

"So you can see both the dead and the living." Killian nodded. "Wow, it's double as crowded for you, amazing." Emma gave him a sarcastic smile. "Can other ghosts see the living? I mean, those who deliberately haunt people?"

"I think it has to do with knowing they're dead. You know you're dead now, but it was quite a shock. Should you stay a little longer, which I strongly advice against, I suppose in time you could start seeing the living as well."

"Strongly advice against?" Emma raised her eyebrow.

"I can help you cross over, I can't force you," He explained. "If you really want to stay, then you can easily choose to do so."

"I don't want to stay..." Emma whispered.

"Okay," Killian smiled.

She breathed in deeply, breathing in the fresh air, wiping her face clean. "So what happens now? There's a light?"

"Often, yes."

"That's ridiculous." Emma sighed. Killian smiled at her bluntness. But he knew better, the dead often told tales of seeing the light before crossing over. So he liked to believe it was true. But the light was not for everyone.

"It can be different for you, like perhaps your family waiting to welcome you back? Or a bunch of warmth trying to invite you to come closer." Emma quickly looked around her, trying to find her family. She shook her head. "Is there anything you would like to see in your life?"

"Sunset," Emma suddenly exclaimed, tears filling up in her eyes once again - and then a smile. "I'd never seen a sunset on a beach before, because it was too far. So when we got our first car we drove to the nearest beach, but we never made it."

Killian nodded, "It's five thirty now, sun sets in about an hour. Nearest beach is forty-five minutes."

"Really?"

"Yes really," Killian took her hand, not quite caring if the living saw him holding 'nothing', walking towards his car. He opened the passengers door for her.

"Wow, are you certain? I mean... It was a car that killed me..."

Killian snorted, "good thing you can't be killed twice then."

"Oh, you are hilarious," she glared at him and got in the car.

They arrived at a pier a little later than expected, the sun was already hanging low. She quickly ran out of the car - not bothering to close the door. The moment she stepped onto the sand of the beach she felt the warmth on her, as if it came from the sun. For once she wasn't unmoved by the wind, her dress waved softly, her blonde curls blew into her face. She turned around to see Killian stand a about fifteen feet away from her, keeping his distance. Maybe they were humans on the beach, but there weren't any ghosts. Just her. Like the sun was going down into the most beautiful sunset, just for her. (And Killian.)

Emma sat down, burying her hands into the warm sand, never taking her eyes off the scenery, not until it completely disappeared into the sea, and when it did, the warmth was still there. She stared at the horizon for long while before getting up and brushing the sand off her dress.

It was enough, time to go.

"I'm ready," she whispered, Killian nodded and stepped closer, barely a foot away. "Will you tell this lady that I'm sorry I thought she was the ghost?"

"Yeah," Killian laughed, "I will."

"And that I terrorised her without meaning to?"

Again laughter, "yes."

"Oh by the way," Emma said, turning around to face him once more, "I got one for your stupid ghost puns," She leaned closer, her mouth near his ear, "you have a nice boooooo-ty." Emma grinned, almost childlike. It was beautiful.

Killian laughed, placing a strand of hair behind her ear, "And I think you're very boo-tiful." Emma smiled, standing tiptoe to press a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, Killian Jones," she spoke softly. "Goodbye."

* * *

_**AN:** thank you for reading, this could be a oneshot, but I have an idea for another chapter or two - like, did she really cross over, wouldn't it be strange if she suddenly showed up at Killian's place, saying she couldn't cross over?_

_Or Killian's POV, it might be interesting to see how he saw the whole situation with both Emma and the lady of the house talking to him at once._

_But you know, that's up to you, I'm willing to write it, but not if no one wants to read it :')_

_Reviews, tips and comments are always appreciated, thank you! x_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Exactly 7 months later, I decided to write Killian's version anyway, so here it is.**_

* * *

"Killian Jones," he answered the phone.

"Um, hi," A chirpy voice said, "My name is Alexandra, but Lexa is fine. I found your number in the paper. Sorry, I don't know how to do this," Killian caught himself smiling as the woman on the other side rambled on, "I have a ghost."

"All right," Killian said, reaching out for his notebook, "May I ask what your indications are?"

"Yes, um, most recently she or he crashed a coffee mug off the coffee table, leaving a huge stain on the carpet, I tried my best to get it out, but it must have soaked in all night... And of course, when I woke up this morning, the curtains were open again. I always close them before I go to bed. There is rarely a day that I wake up and they are still closed when I wake up. I even took a picture of it once before I went to bed, to prove myself I wasn't going crazy when I woke up in the morning and they were open."

"Aha," he mumbled, writing everything down, "Any strange sounds?"

"Not really, sometimes singing, but that might be my neighbour, she's in a band. Although I'm not sure... Oh you must think I'm a work of art," Alexandra sighed in the phone.

"Not at all, is it all right if I come by next week? Wednesday around two?"

"Yes sure, thank you," Alexandra chirped and proceeded to tell him her address.

"I got that. If you notice anything else, just note it down - or remember - and tell me next week all right?"

"Will do. So I will see you next week then, Mr. Jones?"

"Killian's fine, and yes, see you next week," he said.

"Okay," Alexandra answered and hung up. Alexandra did indeed sound genuine about her ghost, but usually they would call later and say it was something explainable after all. However, a coffee mug doesn't fall over by itself... most of the time. And curtains didn't open themselves either.

About two hours later, his phone went again. Busy day.

"Killian Jones," he answered the phone once again. The line cracked a while before he finally made out the words 'Hello' and 'name' spoken by a woman.

"Sorry, love," he interrupted her, "There is noise on the line, I can't quite hear you."

"Is this better?" Whatever the girl had done, it worked, the line stopped cracking and her voice sounded clear now. A soft voice, a warm voice, kind too.

"Much," Killian answered smiling, "I didn't catch your name."

"Emma," She said, "I have a problem with a ghost, I believe."

"What are the indications?" Killian asked, taking his notebook once again.

"Most recent example is last night, I always leave the curtains open, and this ghost closes them."

"Are you sure you aren't just absently?" Killian grinned, writing down her name in his notebook, followed by 'curtains; ghost closes them'.

"I am growing a little mad," She admitted. She sounded utterly adorable as she said it. "But it is happening quite often, so I make absolutely sure I keep them open. But last night also, I... bumped -" she sounded like bumped wasn't the right word, the way she spoke, she made it seem as if she kicked the table. "- against the coffee table and dropped the mug, when I woke up the shards were gone." Killian frowned, turning the page of his notebook.

"A coffee mug, you say?" He frowned, Alexandra had mentioned the exact same thing, he looked at the phone, not quite remembering Alexandra's number, but the last two numbers were the same he believed.

"Yes," Emma answered slowly.

"Interesting..."

"Why?" Emma laughed, her laugh was amazing, he couldn't help imagining a kind-looking girl, with eyes that pretty much lit up when she smiled, "Is a coffee mug an absolute indication of a ghost?" Killian laughed in return.

"No," he snickered. "Would you like me to come take a look at your house?"

"Yes, perhaps just to ease my mind a little," as Emma spelled out her address his breath caught in his throat; the address was exactly the same as Alexandra's. "Mr. Jones, are you still there?"

"I am," He replied, looking on his watch, "You know what, I have a spot in the afternoon, is that all right for you?"

"Yes, absolutely," Emma chirped.

"All right, I'm gonna do some research on your apartment and your town first, and I'll be over in a few hours."

"Thank you," Emma said and hung up. Killian frowned and tore Emma's paper from his notebook, laying it next to Alexandra's. Then deciding to look at the number. His phone indicated he had two conversations with that number. Great. Now which one was the ghost?

The research on the place came up short, just that the building was old, eighteenth century old, it had been renovated a few times, and currently had one apartment for rent.

He called the number again, hoping Alexandra would pick up this time, and not Emma.

"Lexa here," her voice sounded.

"Hey, it's Killian. So... something crazy just happened, and I was wondering if I could come by today already?"

"I swear if you're gonna tell me you have called my ghost I'm gonna start flipping shit. My line has been acting up since I called you."

"Right..." Killian grinned, "So I won't tell you that, then?"

"Okay, can you come over right now then? I'm freaking out."

"Yes, let me get my stuff, I should be there in a thirty minutes."

"Good," Alexandra sighed relieved. "See you soon."

* * *

Killian knocked the door of apartment 3B. Both a girl with short brown hair and blue eyes, as well as a girl with long blonde hair and green eyes stood at the door. He smiled wide, yes this was definitely an interesting case. It didn't take him long to figure out which one of the two was the ghost now, not that she looked bloody, like most ghosts did. She was dressed in a laced dress, reaching to the ground. A dress that seemed like it came from the previous century.

"Do you see the ghost?" The blonde whispered, he recognised her voice as Emma's.

"Is she standing right next to me?" Alexandra asked, slightly alarmed. Killian nodded slowly.

"Oh thank god, I'm not going mad," Emma sighed.

"Oh for fucks sake," Alexandra reached to massage her temples. "Well, come in." He smiled a little and stepped inside as both girls invited him in.

"There is indeed a ghost in your house," Killian started slowly. "But I'm afraid she doesn't know she's dead... She is talking to me like you're the ghost, and not her."

"Oh," Emma muttered, Killian sensed she became uncomfortable; the air became chill. "That's unfortunate. Is it often that ghosts don't know they are dead?"

"This ghost thinks I'm the damn ghost? Great, this just gets better and better. Is she violent?" Alexandra asked. Killian smiled and looked around the place.

"I would love to tell you more about ghosts, but perhaps - to not unsettle her - would you mind not asking too many questions, and if you do, keep them a bit vague? Because your ghost is asking questions as well and this way I might answer them both at the time," Killian smiled at her.

"Yes, of course," Emma smiled. "So would you like some coffee while you talk?"

"Sure, you want something to drink?" Alexandra asked, "Coffee or something?"

"That would be lovely."

"Okay, just one more question," Emma asked while walking into the kitchen, Alexandra following closely. It was quite funny, having both girls talk to him, seeing both girls in the room, knowing there was someone else in the room, yet not knowing where. "Is this a nice ghost?"

"So I did research on ghosts," Alexandra said from the kitchen. "Aren't they usually violent?"

"From my experience when a ghost learns he or she is dead, they tend to get a little upset and sometimes even violent, but so far she's very kind. She's even offering me coffee as well." Killian walked towards the kitchen.

"How does that work?" Emma frowned, her hands halfway to the coffee machine, hesitating. "Whose coffee will you drink? Mine or hers? Do I pretend to make coffee or?" Killian smirked.

"Great, ghost coffee, cheers." Alexandra laughed and placed his mug on the counter.

"Do what you regularly do." Emma nodded and poured him a cup of coffee, placing it on the counter, next to the mug Alexandra had offered him.

"You know," Killian started, sitting down in the couch, a cup in his hand. "I thought this case was quite interesting, because a few hours before you called, I received another call from this apartment, concerning ghosts. It was a different voice, but you both mentioned somewhat the same things, just from another perspective. I realised one of the two had to be the ghost. I'd never had that before, which is why I asked to come by sooner than I usually do. I often wait a few days, because people tend to call back and say it was just their piping or so," Killian laughed, Emma smiled in return.

Alexandra just shook her head amusedly and sat down in the single seat, pulling her legs to her chest, wrapping herself in the blanket. As Emma moved closer, making way to sit down in the single seat as well, Killian held up is hand.

"Would you mind…" He gestured to the other couch.

"Oh, is this where –" Emma whispered with a conspiring tone as if the ghost could suddenly hear her. It was endearing.

"Was she gonna sit on me?" Alexandra laughed, Killian briefly nodded watched Emma sit down in the other couch.

"So," Killian started again, "You mentioned a coffee mug, would you mind showing me where it fell?"

"Right next to the coffee table," Emma replied, staring at the single seat.

"Right here," Alexandra pointed at a stain in the carpet by her chair.

"What other things has your ghost done?" Both girls started talking.

"She constantly opens the curtains!"

"She closes the curtains all the time."

"She moves my stuff."

"She takes my stuff and places it elsewhere."

"Then there are times she turns the heating on when I'm already sweating like a pig."

"Honestly the times she turns the heating off when I am absolutely freezing!" Killian tried to hide his smile as tried to note down everything they said. Mainly, he just wrote what Emma said, with in the end 'Alexandra says the opposite thing of everything'.

"How long have you lived here?" Killian asked upon a silence.

"Since I moved out from my parents' house," Emma answered.

"Couple of months ago," Alexandra said, "It's my first place after college. And it's haunted, that's just marvellous."

"And when did you first notice something was up?"

"About immediately after I moved in?" Alexandra laughed, "But I'd signed the damn contract already, so there was no turning back.

"I don't remember," Emma frowned, "Although, I must admit, I wasn't very neat, so I didn't really pay attention to where I left my stuff. But you know, the curtains started making it obvious, because I never to rarely close them," Killian nodded and wrote down both girls' stories.

"I would very much love to talk with your ghost alone for a moment if that would be possible. A moment when you are not home."

"Oh yes, of course. I am home often though," Emma sighed.

"Sure. And what am I supposed to do?" Alexandra grinned.

"You could maybe go shopping for a day or so?" Killian suggested.

Emma snorted, "I don't like shopping all that much, but sure."

Killian took an agenda from his bag. He knew ghosts did not truly have a sense of time, so taking either moment would work for Emma to be here and having 'forgotten' about their appointment, so his suggestion was really more for Alexandra. "How about a week from now? Saturday in the afternoon?"

"Sure," Emma replied, "So do I just leave the key under the doormat, or?"

Alexandra took her phone and scrolled through it, "Yeah, that should work. How do we do this thing?"

"Yes, leaving the key under the doormat would be a good idea," Killian looked at Alexandra from a moment, hoping she'd get it. "After I've spoken with your ghost I will contact you again for a new appointment, perhaps somewhere I can speak with you alone?"

"Sounds like a plan," Alexandra smiled.

"Yes," Emma agreed. "Always speaking vaguely, with a ghost who doesn't know she's a ghost, very strange."

Killian snorted and gave her a 'you tell me' kind of look. "You don't mind if I don't shake your hand right? Wouldn't want to freak the other one out."

* * *

Killian took the key from underneath the doormat, as he opened the door she saw Emma looking at him like she'd just opened the door.

"Hey," he smiled, she frowned at him for a brief moment until she remembered.

"Was that today I am so sorry, I can't believe I forgot, it's barely been a week. With this whole ghost thing I tend to be so forgetful."

"That's all right," Killian answered, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He bit his lip and looked around, wondering how he should deal with this situation. He'd never met a ghost who so strongly believed she was still alive. "You know, I don't see her nor feel her presence..."

"I must admit it has been very calm today," Emma frowned. "Actually, she has been very calm since you were here."

"Ah well, now that I am here I might as well talk to you."

"May I ask you something?" Emma asked softly. Killian nodded. "I am curious, what does this ghost look like?"

Killian smiled, looking at her, wondering how to best describe her without giving too much away. "She's beautiful," he then concluded.

"I was more wondering, does she look human or is she all bloodied and ghostlike?"

"There is definitely no blood," Killian laughed. "Sometimes she moves a bit strangely. But I think because she is so confident she's still alive, she's looks more human than ghostlike."

"How is it that she doesn't know she's a ghost?" Emma frowned as she poured herself a glass of coke, he watched her curiously marvelling over how it was possible she could interact with so many things while being dead. "Do you want one?" She asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

"No thank you," Killian smiled and sat down in the couch, his bag next to him, "I don't know why she's unaware she's a ghost, my best guess is that she died suddenly, like a crash or perhaps a murder."

"Please don't tell me she killed herself here? That would definitely be the cause of many nightmares," Emma sighed. Emma didn't look like she killed herself, ghosts whom had committed suicide were often more tormented, more violent. His best guess was on a car crash.

"No," Killian shook his head, studying her movements as she sat down in the couch across him, pulling her legs onto the couch as well, her glass in her hand. "I do vast research, there is nothing on the apartment. The research is kind of why I wanted to talk to her. You know, finding out her name so the research is a bit easier. No name is hard to go on, and you can't really find a person or a dead girl for that matter just by looks."

Emma snorted, "Yes that seems hard, but don't you have her name? She must have introduced herself on the phone when she called you?"

"Yes, but I remember the line was pretty bad that day."

"Yes, lots of noise and cracking," Emma recalled.

He pursed his lips, "come to think of it, I don't think I ever caught your full name."

"Swan," Emma smiled.

"That's an interesting name, I've never met someone with that last name."

"Me neither, well except my own family. But here's to being the odd one," she shrugged.

"Or unique," He said. "Is it okay if I ask you a few questions to find out if this ghost is in any way related to you, if the ghost is attached to you, or the apartment, perhaps an object?"

"Sure, and are you certain you don't want anything to drink?"

"No thank you," Killian answered, taking his notebook from his bag, "So your name, Emma Swan..." He stated as he wrote it down. He hesitated, unsure of how to formulate his questions, he should have prepared better, "In what year were you born?"

"Is that just a fancy way of asking how old I am?" He smiled, pretending to look guilty. "I'm 27. But, and excuse my forwardness, I don't think I could live with someone who can see ghosts." Killian nodded, hiding his smile, realising she thought he was flirting with her. Well, at least he got his answers out of her. He didn't get her birth year, but her age could be helpful too.

"Honestly," Killian started, thinking he could pull this flirting thing off. If he pretended to be a little jokingly, perhaps she wouldn't realise the true purpose of his questions. "That's why most of my dates ended up in nothing. Either they don't believe me, or they're scared to death of ghosts."

"That's a funny way of putting it," she laughed, tracing her finger along the top of her glass.

"In my profession, it would be a grave mistake to not use puns," he chuckled.

Emma grinned and raised her eyebrows, "And do they usually work?"

"I have one that gets mixed reviews: what is a ghost's favourite fruit?"

Emma closed her eyes briefly and then looked at him with a smug smirk, "I don't know, what is?"

"Booberries," he answered dryly. Emma snickered, he'd told this joke far too many times, to the point his dryness was the reason the joke made people smile.

"And its favourite pie, booberry pie?" She suggested. Killian snorted and shook his head. Yeah, he liked her.

"Okay, in all seriousness now. These are just some standard questions to help me figure out with what kind of ghost we're dealing with. Do you have any relatives that died?"

"No."

"Purchased any antique objects lately?"

"No."

"Performed a séance?"

"No," Emma replied once more, this time with a little scoff.

"Had a near-death experience?"

"No, or I don't think so? Do you know it when it happens?"

"You often wake up in a hospital," Killian answered, trying to keep his face emotionless, hoping not to offend, but he found the question amusing nonetheless.

"I haven't been to a hospital," Emma shrugged.

"So, no car crashes either?"

"No. Although my car has been acting up lately, so I just walk everywhere. The thing scares me."

"May I see it?"

"It's in the garage downstairs. But, I'm gonna be honest, I don't remember where I left the key." Of course she didn't, he thought. "Or maybe the ghost moved it. Is it okay if I look for it and show you next time?"

They continued to talk until dark about ghostly things mainly. He told her how he found out about having the gift.

A classmate of his passed away when he was younger, but he could still see her. They sent him to the principal's office for making his classmates cry with what he said. His parents had taken him home and had a long conversation about the gift. Not that he'd always considered it a gift.

Somewhere around five he received a text - someone with a ghost who wouldn't stop screaming at night.

They said their goodbyes and he left her alone in the apartment.

* * *

With the information gathered, Killian was able to find a lot more information on his ghost, his surprisingly beautiful ghost named Emma Swan.

When he called Alexandra the day after, (he had procured her number after having her call him after he'd visited Emma. Alexandra had asked him jokingly if Emma had set the place on fire yet in her absence.) he asked her to meet up with him in the diner on the corner during her coffee break.

"Hey," Alexandra smiled, sitting across him, he'd ordered them both a coffee. "How's it going?" She asked as she sipped her coffee. Alexandra seemed much more comfortable than she did when he'd first seen her.

"Everything's fine," he answered. "And you?"

"Been living with my friend for the last week, I prefer to see my roommates," she grinned. Killian chuckled softly. "I mean I know she's not violent and all, but there's still something weird about living with a ghost."

"I understand."

"Did you find anything on her?"

"I did," Killian smiled. "Her name is Emma Swan, died when she was twenty-seven. Lived on her own in the apartment you live in now."

"So it's just her? Just one ghost, right?"

"Yes, her parents and brother have crossed over quite a while ago."

"How do you know?" Alexandra crossed her legs and sat back in her chair.

"My family has been in this business for a long time, this... gift of ours has been passed on from generation to generation. My grandfather was the one who decided to keep a log on every ghost he helped. My father did so too."

"Sounds like an interesting bunch of files."

"It is," Killian laughed. "So I looked through his files of this town and there I found her. Took me a while though, the file was went back to the 1940's. His log said that he received a call from someone in the building who kept hearing a baby cry, except that no one in that building had had a baby recently. Apart from a couple that was in a car crash recently, however, their things hadn't been taken from the place yet. So he went there and found a family of three ghosts; their daughter didn't live with them anymore, and they couldn't find her. He helped the parents and little brother cross over under the condition that he'd find her, and help her cross over as well. He searched for her, but he never did find her. It frustrated him, he didn't like breaking a promise. And I can't tell him I found her because he passed away ten years ago and crossed over immediately."

"I'm sure he would be proud you found her."

"I like to think so too," Killian answered. "The log also said he asked them if he could take the family picture to help him remember what she looked like," he said while taking a picture from his 'Emma Swan' file, laying it on the table. "That's her," he pointed at the blonde on the picture.

"Oh, she is gorgeous..." She took the picture between her fingers, looking at it almost sadly.

"Yes, she is," Killian smiled.

"Do you know how they died?"

"A car crash," Killian answered, handing her the news paper article he'd found online.

"Did they have cars back then?" Alexandra wondered absentmindedly as her eyes scanned over the small article.

"Yes, the early versions. But as it wasn't very monitored, they let people drink and drive. A drunken driver got them off the road."

"That is so sad."

"It is. I believe Emma doesn't know she's dead because she was killed instantly."

"So she came back to the apartment and lived there until now?"

"Yes."

"How did she not notice times change that much?"

"Ghosts rarely have a sense of time."

"So what happens next?" Alexandra asked, handing him back the article, looking once more at her photo. She looked at it with about the same look as he had when he thought of her. She could have been still alive now, with grandchildren, great-grandchildren even. She could have had a very fulfilling life, if it hadn't been for that damn drunk driver.

Or she could have passed away peacefully already, probably surrounded by family.

"I found out she's buried at the cemetery two blocks away, so I'm gonna take a look there first."

"What do you hope to find there?" Alexandra wondered.

"Answers as to how I should tell her she's dead," Killian shook his head at himself.

"How do you usually do that?"

"I've never had a ghost who believed so firmly she's still alive. Most ghost I deal with have some notion of being dead. I'm not even sure she would believe me if I told her she was really a ghost."

"What if you show her her grave?"

"I'm not sure that would be the best idea," Killian chuckled. "It might be very shocking."

"At least she'll believe you," Alexandra shrugged, looking on her watch. "I have to get back to work, will you let me know when I can move back in my apartment?"

"Of course," he smiled, getting up to shake her hand.

"See you later, Killian," she smiled back at him and left.

A few minutes later, Killian found himself walking through the graveyard, he wasn't particularly fond of these places. It was busier than most places, with both living and dead crowding the place. He had to walk pretty far back until he found the graves dating back to the 1940's.

He knew she was dead, of course, but it was a still a shock to see her name engraved on the headstone. It ached his chest. He realised his desire to help her did not just came from his grandfather, but from her. The beautiful ghost that came back to him in his dreams, green eyes that twinkled each time she laughed - a laugh that made him feel warm.

He took his phone from his pocket, thinking Alexandra's way would be... definitely not the best way to go over the whole 'hey you've been dead for like seventy years' thing, but it would definitely made her sure about the whole 'I'm actually dead' thing.

"Hey Emma," Killian smiled as her kind voice greeted her.

"Hi, did I forget another appointment?" She joked.

"No but I wanted to know if you had something to do right now, because I was at the local cemetery and I found your ghost's grave."

"Eh, creepy?" He could hear the hesitation in her voice. Well done Jones, you just keep shocking this girl. Just one more then.

"I also wanted to ask you a few more questions without the ghost around," he whispered, "So if possible, would you mind coming up here?"

"Okay," Emma answered, "Oh but I still didn't find the key for my garage door, so I will have to walk."

"I have time," Killian smiled, "See you later."

It took her a good fifteen minutes before she arrived, he waved at her discretely to get her attention.

"Hey," she said as she was in hearing distance.

"Hey," he replied, gesturing for her to stop behind the stone. "Listen, Emma, I didn't really need to ask you something, but I did find the grave I wanted to show you." Emma nodded with a smile, his heart shattered, knowing she would not be smiling in a moment. "I'm sorry, I really didn't know any other way to tell you."

"What are you talking about? Is it a relative of mine?" He nodded at the headstone, for her to see. Emma slowly walked towards him. "No," she muttered, almost instantaneously tearing up. If his heart hadn't been completely ruined before, it surely was now. "NO!" She yelled this time. Killian watched her fall onto her knees before her own headstone. He was gonna hate himself for a while for telling her like this, he should have just told her carefully, not show Emma her own damn headstone, thinking that would be the easiest way out. It was, in a way. It was very self-explanatory, but watching her fall apart before him, crying and screaming so loudly he had to take a step back, it wasn't worth it. He wished he could take it back, find another way.

The screaming and crying slowly became soft sobs, her hands foul with dirt from tearing out the grass, and eventually just hitting the sand.

"Emma?" Killian softly asked. She looked up, eyes red, her white dress tear-stained, her chest rising and falling heavily.

"I remember..." The hoarseness of her voice surprised the both of them, she had screamed until her voice broke, but she continued anyway. "You said something about not scaring the ghost, because they might get violent. The fuck is this?" She pointed at her headstone. "This isn't scary?"

"I'm sorry," Killian whispered. "You were so convinced you were still alive. Most ghosts I deal with have some notion of being dead - some simply don't care and pretend to be alive, but I didn't know how to deal with you." She looked at the headstone once more.

"What's today's date?"

"January 25th, 2015," Killian answered. Emma nearly choked as she quickly did the math.

"I don't..." She took a deep breath. "I don't remember how I died."

"Do you want me to tell you?" Killian offered, taking a file map from his bag, in a messy handwriting it said 'Emma Swan Case'.

"Was it bad?"

"Police report said you died immediately, I believe that's why you don't remember or maybe even didn't realise you were dead; because of the suddenness of it all." Emma nodded.

"So, how'd it happen?"

"Car crash," he answered, he took her silence as an invitation to continue. "I found this article on the internet."

Emma shrugged in defeat, a runny nose and tears eyes made her sound exhausted. He didn't want to find her adorable, but he did, in a very strange 'I just told this girl she's dead, gave her the shock of her... well not-life, and she just looks like she could use a nap and a hug' way. "I don't know what that is."

"It can be compared to a very advanced library," Killian offered, not entirely certain how he had to explain the internet to someone who probably had no notion of what even a computer was. He started to read. "July 19th, 1940. A fatal car crash cost the life to a family of four. The son and daughter lost their lives immediately. Mother and father were brought to the hospital, but they died later due to their injuries."

"So, did we crash into a wall, or?" Emma wondered silently.

"No, there was another driver, he hit you off the road. Initial police report says it was a hit and run, but later notes said he later had to turn himself in as he suffered multiple injuries as well and required medical attention. He was drunk at the time of the accident."

"Did he die?" She asked angrily.

"Of old age."

"Son of a bitch!" Emma yelled, smacking her hands once more in the dirt.

"His gravestone is a few rows away, you can go kick it if you want," Killian suggested, trying to keep the air light. Emma couldn't help but smile. Yet, she shook her head.

"Now what?"

"We get you to cross over," Killian answered as if it was the most obvious answer. Perhaps it was.

"We?"

"I'm not gonna let you do this alone," he shrugged, placing the map back into his bag.

"Why, you scared I'm gonna stay and become a violent ghost?" Emma smirked.

"Because the process can get quite emotional, but if you don't want me here." Killian started walking towards his car.

"No, wait. Stay," she reached out for him, her fingers around his wrist. Her touch was soft - and cold, like pretty much every ghost felt. She slowly let go of him.

"So do I go to heaven?"

"Or hell," Killian grinned. She punched his shoulder and he pretended to hurt.

"Very funny," she glared at him.

"Truth is, I don't know, Emma. I'm a bit sceptic about the whole heaven and hell thing."

"Says the man who talks to the dead."

"That doesn't mean I believe in an afterlife," Killian shrugged, "I believe it there is something, but I don't know what."

"How come I can see you, and not the people around me, I mean sometimes I see other people, but why not the people that lived in my house?"

"I like to see myself as a bridge between the two worlds, both the living and the dead can see me," he said, he turned around to look over the cemetery. "Let's see. Can you see the man by that headstone over there?" He subtly pointed to a man more to the front of the cemetery.

"Yes?"

"There's another woman. The man has died and he's comforting his wife as she cries by his headstone."

"So you can see both the dead and the living." Killian nodded. "Wow, it's double as crowded for you, amazing." Emma gave him a sarcastic smile. "Can other ghosts see the living? I mean, those who deliberately haunt people?" Killian found it interesting that Emma, with her puffy cheeks and runny nose, had so many questions about the whole situation. Usually, the ghosts he dealt with just wanted to leave.

"I think it has to do with knowing they're dead. You know you're dead now, but it was quite a shock. Should you stay a little longer, which I strongly advice against, I suppose in time you could start seeing the living as well."

"Strongly advice against?" Emma raised her eyebrow.

"I can help you cross over, I can't force you," He explained. "If you really want to stay, then you can easily choose to do so."

"I don't want to stay..." Emma whispered.

"Okay," Killian smiled. Emma breathed in deeply, wiping her tears away. "So what happens now? There's a light?"

"Often, yes."

"That's ridiculous." Emma sighed. Killian smiled at her bluntness. The dead often told tales of seeing the light before crossing over. So he liked to believe it was true. But the light was not for everyone.

"It can be different for you," He offered. "Like perhaps your family waiting to welcome you back? Or a bunch of warmth trying to invite you to come closer." Emma quickly looked around her, like she was trying to find her family, but she shook her head sadly. "Is there anything you would like to see in your life?"

"Sunset," Emma suddenly exclaimed, tears filling up in her eyes once again - and then a smile. "I'd never seen a sunset on a beach before, because it was too far. So when we got our first car we drove to the nearest beach, but we never made it."

Killian nodded, "It's five thirty now, sun sets in about an hour. Nearest beach is forty-five minutes."

"Really?"

"Yes really," Killian took her hand, not quite caring if the living saw him holding 'nothing', walking towards his car. He opened the passengers door for her.

"Wow, are you certain? I mean... It was a car that killed me..."

Killian snorted, "good thing you can't be killed twice then."

"Oh, you are hilarious," she glared at him and got in the car.

* * *

They arrived at the closest beach as the sun was already hanging low. Killian watched her run out of the car excitedly, not even closing the door. He locked his car and followed her to the beach, watching her from a distance. Her white dress moved softly in the wind. Her long blonde hair curling around her. She looked back, smiling at him and he smiled in return.

He watched her sit down, staring at the sunset until long after the sun had set. He didn't interrupt her, this was all for her - he owed her as much.

Finally she got up, almost glowing as she walked over to him.

"I'm ready," she whispered, Killian nodded and stepped closer, barely a foot away. "Will you tell this lady that I'm sorry I thought she was the ghost?"

"Yeah," Killian laughed, Alexandra was gonna love this. "I will."

"And that I terrorised her without meaning to?"

He chuckled again, "yes."

"Oh by the way," Emma said, turning around to face him once more, "I got one for your stupid ghost puns," She leaned closer, her mouth near his ear, "you have a nice boooooo-ty." Emma grinned, almost childlike. It was beautiful.

Killian laughed, placing a strand of hair behind her ear, "And I think you're very boo-tiful."

Emma smiled, standing tiptoe to press a soft kiss on his cheek with her cold, soft lips.

"Thank you, Killian Jones," she spoke softly. "Goodbye."

* * *

Killian called Alexandra's cell phone as soon as he got home, dumping his bag on the table, searching for his notebook so he could start logging this case.

"Hey," Alexandra chirped as she picked up.

"Hey, I just wanted to call to say she crossed over," he spoke tiredly as he sat down on his desk chair. He'd cried during the car ride home, it was hard to admit, but helping ghosts cross over was an emotional process. And then there was Emma. Who for some strange reason crept up on him so fast he hadn't even realised it until he found himself looking forward to talk to her again.

Usually, he preferred to avoid talking to them until they really bothered someone. But Emma was different in every way possible.

Watching her vaporise into thin air before him, had left his chest aching, feeling empty and dull.

"That's good, right?"

"Yes," Killian answered, taking the photo from his case file, looking at her in hopes to memorise every last bit of her before she would be just another ghost case.

"Then why do you sound so sad?"

"It was a strange case," he smiled, "and just showing her the headstone had not been a good idea."

"Oh no," Alexandra sighed. "Was she all right?"

"Yes, eventually. But I should have done it differently," Killian bit his lip as he started writing. He didn't have to write her name down on so many papers, but he did. "Oh, she wanted me to tell you she was sorry for thinking you were the ghost, and terrorising you."

Alexandra laughed, "good, she owes me two coffee mugs."

"I'd tell her but..." She's gone. He got up as he heard a knock on his door. When he opened the door, meeting a pair of gorgeous green eyes he nearly dropped his phone.

"Yeah," Alexandra chuckled. "Killian? You still there?"

"Yes," he answered, "I'm gonna have to call you back." He didn't wait for a response before hanging up on her. "Emma?"

"Hey," she smiled apologetically.


End file.
